Page 27 of The New Guy
“Yeah, I know. It’s funny.” He flashes me a quick smile, but it’s pained.
“So what happened with the guy?”
He rubs his forehead. “Well, life was great for a little while. I thought I’d made it, you know? Professional athlete. Hookups with a guy who likes to blow me. But eventually he says he can’t be my dirty secret. And if I want to continue, I have to at least tell somebody.”
“Oh.” I practically have PTSD from coming out to my own family, so there are lots of dark turns this story could take.
“So I man up and do it—I tell my dad. And he takes it surprisingly well. I’m kind of stunned. His only advice isjust don't tell the team. He wants me to give it a whole season first.” Hudson takes a deep breath. “Looking back, I think he was just hoping that I’d get sick of the guy, and maybe the problem would solve itself. But I didn’t listen to him.”
Uh-oh. I brace myself.
“…I mean, I really thought it would be okay. Coach was hard to read, but the assistant coach was a great guy, and I just had a good feeling—like the whole world should be just as happy as I am about this. You know what I mean?”
I nod, but I actually feel a little queasy.
“…So I pick a quiet day when management is around, and I ask for a quick meeting. Just fifteen minutes.” He swallows. “They ask if it can wait, and I say no. So we tromp into Coach’s office.” He drops his eyes to his hands. “And I just go for it. The minute I sit down, I tell them I'm dating a guy, and I need my teammates to know. I want to be honest, because switching pronouns when I talk about my weekend makes me feel like a heel, you know?” His brown eyes flip up to mine, and they’re pleading. “I didn’t want to lie to my team about who I was.”
“Oh Iknow.” It’s so hard to live that way. “But what did theysay?”
“Nothing.” He swallows hard. “Not one word. It was so quiet I could hear my own pulse. Lots of exchanged glances. Then the manager says—thank you for telling us. Maybe just hold off a few days on telling the team. We’ll call you in a day or so.”
It’s just as quiet right now as I wait for him to continue. He rubs his forehead again, like it pains him to think about this. But sometimes you just need to get it out.
“…So I figure they want to get the PR department on board. I’m waiting for a call. But when it comes, the GM calls me into his office alone. No PR person. He hands me a travel itinerary to Carolina.Thank you for your service, but you’ve been traded.”
I let out a gasp. “Really? Just like that? And you think it’s because you came out?”
“Iknowit was.” Those dark eyes flash with pain. “My father is my agent, and he’s one of the most connected men in hockey. So he hears everything. And he waspissed.”
“At you?”
He winces. “A little. But mostly just pissed off. He gave a lot to that team, and when they traded me, he was ashamed. Like they were rejecting him. He sort of took it personally.”
Ohhhhh shit. That is messy. “So, uh, I’ve heard a lot of coming out stories, and that’s a prize winner.”
He snorts. “Thanks, I think. But I wanted you to hear it. I’ve been waiting a long time to feel settled enough on a team somewhere to try again. But it hasn’t happened for me yet. There’s actually a Guinness Book entry for the most-traded hockey player. Nine times. I’ve got a few more to go.”
Ouch. “So you basically live with an ax over your head? I’m sorry.”
Those dark eyes lift to mine. “No,I’msorry. Because you were pretty much the most exciting thing that happened to me, too.”
“Oh.”
Oh.
I’m suddenly aware of how close we are to each other. Again. He’s right there, thinking all the same thoughts as me. Quiet apartment. Nobody else home. Late night. All I’d have to do is lean over and taste his mouth…
He rises abruptly and heads into the kitchen. “I’d offer you a beer but I have nothing more interesting than water.”
“It’s okay,” I say, hiding my disappointment. I look down at my phone, where the photos have all loaded. This is probably my cue to leave.
I stall, though, opening up the photo gallery. The first thing I see is a pic of Jordyn on Hudson’s shoulders. He’s gripping her shins, and she’s smiling like she just won the lottery.
Oh boy—a hot hockey player being nice to my kid. Is there anything more attractive than that?
Then there’s a picture of her eating a hot dog with ketchup on her face. And a selfie of Castro and Jordyn and a bag of popcorn. And a photo of her wearing all her new Bombshells gear.
And—inexplicably—a picture of Jordyn signing Hudson’s jersey with a Sharpie. The way he’s smiling at my little girl makes my heart beat faster. “Hudson—these pictures are…” I gulp. “Perfect. Thank you. And let me pay you back for everything.” I stand up and pull out my wallet to fish for some cash.
